The embroidered invitation lay on Jace’s desk like a declaration of war. In cream colored packaging, and gilded lettering, lay the annual Luxembourg Economic summit Gala.
Reynolds picked it up with a gloved hand with a grim expression on his face. “The guest list is a who’s who of your adversaries, sir. The Montgomerys, the Whitmans, half our restless board…and Marcus Foster, of course. It would be a strategic snub not to attend. But a public appearance…”
“Is out of the question,” Jace finished, as turned away from the window. “I have no interest in being their main attraction. They would descend on me like vultures. But you are right, we can not ignore it. So, we won’t.”
Then he turned to them, with a plan already fully formed in his eyes. “The two of you will go. In my stead.”
Mila,
